


Everlasting

by nervouswriting



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Mild Angst, Really mild angst, Trans JD, Trans Male Character, Trans!JD, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouswriting/pseuds/nervouswriting
Summary: "He lets her reaction freeze, crack, and melt in his brain. Dispose of it.It’s never a lasting one." Or a really short emotional smut with Trans!JD.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First graphic smut wowie it's a whole new world. (I just really had to get this out and I'm so sorry mother) Keep in mind this doesn't go by the story at all, it's just a smut.

He wasn’t scared often; he made it his life mission to avoid any weak emotion. Any insecurity and sadness would be pushed down by his seemingly endless determination. His father’s words in his head the day his mom was pushed six feet under.

“If you really are a man, prove it and stop crying.”

He did, and he wasn’t scared anymore, he swore he’d never be.

Yet here he was, standing inches longer than the girl in front of him. She was petite, curved; her blue uniform hugged her in all the right ways. All that sex-appeal on her shell but inside she was so understanding and kind, innocent and wild.

He didn’t want to bother with her, he didn’t want to bother with anyone and explaining how he was. His dad couldn’t understand, he could barely understand himself.

It was easy to tell them all off, show them the most disgusting piece of him. If they hadn’t figured it out themselves, simply saying it would chase them away without any real effort from him. It was sad, it was lonely, and it was powerful.

But now that he was saying it, he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t feel the need to drive her away, to lose the one girl who seemed so ordinary from first glance, yet left a tainting mark on your brain for days.

“Sorry, you wouldn’t like hanging out with a tranny.”

And when her face didn’t show the disgust, the confusion before the realization, he was scared. Instead her features morphed something he couldn’t even process in this world, in this time; understanding. He turns away, walks away, doesn’t let it sink in any further.

He lets her reaction freeze, crack, and melt in his brain. Dispose of it.

It’s never a lasting one.

 

* * *

 

There’s a crack, and a snap and cold wind fills his room in seconds. He gets up like from a nightmare, ready for defense even when his eyes haven’t yet focused on the dark. The moonlight comes in from his opened window, and so does a girl wearing blue.

He wonders if he should freak out, her calmly yet sluggishly settling in his room, humming a tune.

He thinks she came to beat him up. Mock him and kill him. Beat his chest ‘till he’s coughing his bones and misery. Her eyes signal danger, impatience and lust.

His mouth opens when she sits beside him and lays her hand on his chest, but she manages to shut him up before he can ruin the moment.

“I don’t care.”

And the expression is back, the understanding, the impossible. His heart beats wildly and she smiles.

“So won’t you let this dead girl walking love you to pieces?”

He can’t refuse yet he can’t find his voice to say yes. Yes. Yes.

When she kisses him it tastes like alcohol, addicting and bitter, mind-numbing and sweet. He grabs at her, and she pushes him down. Her eyes do the questioning and her hands comply when it’s ok, he’s not sure where she gets her answers from. Somewhere on his body, and it’s heating up. The chest he so much despises, shivering as she touches him under his shirt. It’s careful and testing and innocent. He grunts into his hand when her nails scratch down to his stomach.

Soft skin clinging to his ribs, she kisses each one and pulls at his boxers. The darkness isn’t as unclear anymore, and he looks away when he’s completely naked. He can’t look and he won’t, her mouth spells distant sadness but she doesn’t force him. Kissing downward his stomach, his flat hips, between his legs-

His voice goes the highest it has in years when she reaches over his labia.

Every part of him is shaking, his clit is licked, sucked, and the gentle feel of teeth makes his hips buck. He’s so soaked he doesn’t know how he’s going to clean his sheets. She finds this alluring though; diving in deep as his pants turn into gasps and into high begs. The velvety texture of her tongue inside him, he’s going over the edge.

But then it switches from her tongue to her fingers, curiously prodding and pressing and the room fills with pleasured sobs. He’s too disgusted to ever touch himself, yet this one ordinary girl does so with so much ease. He’s overflowing from every part of himself, tears forming at his eyes, drool he couldn’t swallow for the noises he’s letting out. It’s dirty and pure at the same time, he’s destroyed and she’s gentle.

She kisses his tears away; presses inside just right, fingers tickle his buzzing and hot skin. He moans her name like a prayer, “Veronica, Veronica” and she complies with his wordless pleads. Sparks fly through him, he cries out so loud it echoes in the room, in his head and in his brain. She keeps pressing inside him and kissing his skin until he’s completely undone.

There’s a soaked spot on his bed under his trembling thighs, he thinks he tore his mattress at some point. He’s so gone he can’t recognize her words, but they’re soft and reassuring and he uses them as a lullaby. Forgets all the pain, all his promises, just let’s himself float under the soft shadow of a beautiful girl and fresh afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it and if you want, please leave kudos or a comment, thank you!


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